At the crossroads, without slowing, the sporty MG Midget’s headlights carved through the winter fog. Lucy Laylock was on a mission. She leaned forward over the steering wheel and squinted. Suddenly, out of the darkness, the turning she needed appeared. Lucy swung the steering wheel hard right, causing the car’s wheels to lose traction. Grit and dirt flew, rattling off the car’s body. Now wasn’t the time to lose control and put the car into a ditch. The chase was on. Unfamiliar country lanes flashed by as the fog thinned, allowing the moonlight to shine through arching branches and gaps in the high hedgerow.
The chase had started eight hours ago when Lucy witnessed the theft of a diamond-encrusted star from the jeweller’s shop next to her mother’s milliner shop on the high street. She had been busy helping her mother out with the Christmas rush of orders.
“Christmas 1932 will be our best ever,” Lucy’s mother, Penelope, called from the back of the shop, before appearing in the doorway, carrying a pile of hatboxes. “Can you change a couple of hats in the window? These will brighten it and hopefully bring in some last-minute shoppers.”
As Lucy leaned into the window to remove the hats from their stand, her attention was caught by an unfamiliar car parked outside the jeweller’s, with its engine running.
“What’s wrong, Lucy?” Penelope asked, waiting for her daughter to pass her the hats.
“I’m not sure. Pass me a pen and notebook.”
Penelope passed them straightaway, knowing that her daughter's instinct for trouble had saved them and others from heartache in the past. As Lucy made notes, a shout went up, followed by a loud bang, as one of the two men coming out of the shop turned and fired a gun.
“Oh, my goodness was that gunfire?”
“Call the police, Mother. Tell them the car is an Austin ten-four, and here are the number plate details.” She handed the notebook to her mother. “Tell them there are two men. I’m going to follow them.”
“Oh, Lucy you cannot. What if they shoot at you, too?”
“Don’t panic, Mother. We don’t know if anyone was hurt, and my army undercover training will come in handy.
“I know love, but still be careful.”
“It might have been just a warning shot. Please call the police. I’ll keep a safe distance, I promise.”
With her heart pounding, Lucy sprinted to her car and sped after the thieves as they disappeared beyond the town limits.
Lucy kept her distance, trailing the thieves through winding country roads. Where could they be going? When they finally stopped at a petrol station, Lucy seized the chance to call her mother from a nearby phone box.
“I don’t have much time. How is Mr. Juggins?”
“He’s fine. The police have no leads. You were right about them only firing the gun to keep him back as they snatched the silver diamond-encrusted star. It is all very odd. Mr. Juggins said he had only just bought it. With it being so near to Christmas, he decided to use it in his Christmas display.”
“Was it valuable?” Lucy asked, moving the telephone receiver to her other ear, to watch through the window as the thieves paid for their fuel.
“Yes, Lucy, over a thousand pounds, and Mr. Juggins wants it back. He said, it’s called, the Andromeda Star and has quite a history to it. It originally came from the Middle East.”
“So it might be a stolen artefact. Sorry, I have to go. They are on the move again.”
“Be careful. I’ll let the police know where you are.”
“Okay.” Lucy slammed the receiver down and dashed to her car. After they left the forecourt of the petrol station, she counted to ten before following them.
As Lucy drove on, she thought she knew where they were heading, but they suddenly turned off the main road onto a country lane. She followed on; surprised they weren’t heading for London. After crossing an old stone bridge, a mist appeared. Lucy found it difficult to focus on the taillights snaking off into the distance. Her mother had said the thieves had disregarded everything else, only taking the star. Lucy wondered why that was; after all, Mr Juggins had many other expensive items in the shop. Surely, the star would be easy to trace, or were they planning to break it up?
The car ahead of her turned onto a farm track. Lucy followed, keeping her distance. The red taillights flashed from view for a second as the mist encircled them. Lucy squinted, struggling to keep the car in sight. The road dropped steeply as they descended into a valley. After crossing a bridge, the mist cleared, allowing Lucy to see the other car clearly in the distance. They drove on for half an hour. Relief washed through Lucy, and she relaxed as the car ahead began to slow as though the driver was searching for a turning. Its headlights picked out trees and shrubs in the darkness. Then a fingerpost came into view. Lucy slowed and watched as the car turned off the road into a copse.
On reaching the turning, Lucy stopped to read the sign as it swung in the wind. The faded gold lettering shone in the headlights read: 'The Silver Star Inn; a perfect place to rest your head.'
Between the trees, Lucy saw flickering lights of the car and the outlines of a building. She killed the engine, allowing the silence to calm her racing heart. The mist drifted between the trees and beaded on the windscreen. For a moment, Lucy feared losing visibility as she tried to peer through the misty window. She eased her foot off the brake, which allowed the car to roll forward, giving her a clearer view. The thieves’ car stopped by an outbuilding, and two shapes slipped across the yard, briefly highlighted by the lights from the main building.
After parking in among the trees, Lucy stepped out of the car and breathed in the scent of damp soil, pine, and a hint of something else… smoke or musky clothes, boxed up and forgotten. She hesitated, wondering whether she should let her mother know that she had traced the star to an old Inn and leave it to the police.
“What if the police arrived too late, to stop the star from being broken up? No, I must find out why they took it. The sign had said a perfect place to rest your head, and I’m a weary traveller in need of rest,” Lucy said to her car, patting its bonnet. As in answer, it faintly clicked as it began to cool in the damp night air, glad to rest after the chase. “I’ll need this if I’m to play the part of a weary traveller.” Lucy pulled out a small overnight bag she kept in her car, closing the door with a soft click, and began walking towards the inn.
The building emerged from the mist like a ghost from the past. It was a low-squat building; it must have been a coach inn, Lucy thought, but she couldn’t recall seeing it before. Maybe the summertime foliage hid it too well, though the sign would’ve been clear enough to see. She shook her head and focused on gaining entry to the building. The stone walls were mottled with age and streaked with damp to the point that moss and lichen covered the surfaces. A lantern hung above the main door, throwing restless shadows across the yard in an orange glow. In the moonlight, Lucy saw the roof sagged in places. The windows, lit from within, seemed reluctant to let any of the light out.
As Lucy walked slowly toward the entrance, a feeling of uncertainty washed over her, a sense that time had stilled. She tried to take everything in; the glass looked old, slightly warped, while ivy clung rope-like and unchecked across the porch. The faded sign swung gently on a rusted bracket while uneven cobbles made her catch her balance as she reached for the door handle.
Lucy drew in a slow breath and steadied herself. For whatever reason, the thieves had taken the star, and the answer lay behind the solid oak door that stood ajar. She pulled the thick metal handle towards her, and the door creaked open. Then, from nowhere, a gust of wind forced her into the darkness of the hallway that smelled faintly of lavender and beeswax. As her eyes adjusted to the flickering candlelight, the door swung shut behind her with a thud that made her jump.
A warm glow shimmered ahead, inviting her forward. As though drawn by the comfort of a blazing fire after a winter walk, Lucy stepped towards it. From nowhere, an elegant woman, wearing a long, old-fashioned dress, materialised before her. With her hair piled high, soft curls caressed her cheeks, and a light smile resting on her gentle face, she said, in a whisper, sadness reflected in her eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear, but we have no vacancies.”
“I only need a room for tonight,” Lucy said, trying to see what was causing the bright glow over the woman’s shoulder.
“There are no rooms — you must go quickly.” The tension in the woman’s voice concerned Lucy. Was it fear, fear of what— her being there? The woman glanced over her shoulder and stepped back; her long gown made no sound. She seemed to float across the highly polished wooden floor as she turned toward the dancing light and shadows beyond the hallway. Along the corridor, the mechanism of a grandfather clock clicked a warning. Christmas Day was seconds away.
“Please, you must leave,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried away. Lucy followed her, unwilling to leave without the star.
Beyond the hallway lay a spacious room with a high ceiling and a wide fireplace at the far end. Tables and chairs lined the walls, leaving the centre empty. Christmas decorations of paper chains, holly, and ivy hung from beam to beam, their berries glowing in the candlelight. In the far corner, next to the fireplace, stood a Christmas tree covered in multi-coloured paper chains and its branches heavy with silver stars and glass baubles. A man poised to crown the tree with a large silver, diamond-encrusted star. As the first strike of the clock echoed around the room, he settled the star into place. As the star touched the tree, a silvery light erupted from it, washing over Lucy and filling the room with iridescent colours. As her eyes adjusted to the luminous glow—brighter than any lamp—unearthly shapes drifted toward the tree, melting out of the walls as if summoned. Ghosts, Lucy wondered, but how could that be?
A low hum filled the room. Then, to Lucy's surprise, she realised it was voices—dozens of them, soft- and otherworldly. The drifting shapes took on form: translucent people, shimmering at the edges, greeting each other like long-lost lovers with smiles, hugs, and kisses.
Laughter rose, music swelled, and the couples began to dance, and Lucy felt herself drawn into the bizarre revelry. Through the chorus of unfamiliar ghostly voices, Lucy heard one she knew. A voice she last heard on a rain-washed railway platform when he had held her tightly, both of them knowing it might be their final embrace. His destination had been unknown to her; in their line of work, there would always be secrets between them. They had married in haste, hoping they had a month together, but it wasn’t to be. A letter arrived the following morning to order Tom abroad the next day.
“Lucy, my darling, please don’t cry. We will meet again, I promise you. This isn’t goodbye.”
“Dearest Tom… this war has torn too many lovers apart.”
He pressed her close, whispering, “You are my world, Lucy. I love you.” Then he boarded the train and was gone. Days later came the telegram that told her three words that froze her heart forever— missing in action. No survivors— plane crashed into the sea.
“Lucy— dearest is that you.”
She turned to find the man of her dreams, tall and handsome as ever, with those laughing blue eyes— standing before her in the Star Inn on Christmas Eve, looking as he did on the day he left.
“Tom? Oh, Tom, but how, why are you here?”
Her husband pulled her into his arms, and they began to sway in time with the music. Just breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth of his lips on hers, made her heart race pushing the questions that crowded her mind aside— all she wanted in this moment as the music wrapped itself around them, was to dance with Tom for eternity
“I followed the light of the star,” he murmured into her hair. “It brought me to you. But we only have a short time together, and then I must return.”
“Return? To where?”
“Hush.” His arms tightened around her waist. “I came to tell you I love you— and always will. But you still have a lifetime ahead of you.” She rested her head on his chest as he kissed her hair.
Tom drew back; his blue eyes sparkled with happiness. “You must let me go, Lucy. This is goodbye. Follow your own bright star. Find someone to love you for the rest of your days. I’ll be watching over you.”
“Tom… I want to come with you.” Her heart ached with the longing she carried since his plane went down.
“No, my love. Not yet. Enjoy your time on earth.” He stepped back, smiling gently, “It’s time for me to go.”
As the last chime heralded in Christmas Day, the fire went out, the lights dimmed, and coldness encircled Lucy. The music and laughter faded, and Tom with them. Panic rose in Lucy’s chest. The tree and star began to fluctuate, flickering like a dancing flame. Acting on impulse, Lucy snatched the star from the tree and ran— just as the tree vanished in a puff of black smoke.
Lucy slowly opened her eyes and shivered. Sunlight poured through the windscreen, making her blink. The last wisps of mist would soon disappear. She sat up with a start, realising she was in her car. “Was it real,” Tears ran down her cheeks as she recalled Tom’s touch and her lips still burned with husband’s final, lingering kiss.
Lucy opened the car door, stepped out and looked around. The clearing where the inn had once stood was just a ruin, covered in ivy. The walls had crumbled, the roof was gone, and at its centre, a tall pine tree stood, shedding brown needles across the rubble. Lucy stepped over what had once been the doorway and carefully picked her way towards the tree. The old fireplace lay cracked and broken, roots from the pine tree and young holly trees forced their way through the cracks in the flagstones.
“Had it all been just a dream?” Lucy voiced her thoughts aloud, causing a blackbird to take flight and squawked his complaint of being disturbed. After catching her breath, she took in her surroundings. “Was the car chase…Tom… just my imagination?”
As she turned to leave, something flashed, caught by the sunlight. She bent to pick it up. It must have been true. A silver diamond-encrusted star lay nestled in her hand, the same one she had seen on the tree. She pressed it tightly to her chest, the five points digging into her hand.
“If it wasn’t real, how did the star get here?” Lucy muttered as she made her way back to the car.
On the way home, Lucy kept thinking about the star— had the thieves just discarded it? But, what about the laughter, music and dancing — and the woman, who had spoken to her, seemed so real. Tom’s words echoed in her mind; their final goodbye.
As she parked outside the cottage, she reached for the star. For a heartbeat, it pulsated in her hand, sending a warmth racing up her arm that burst behind her eyes. She was back in the Inn, dancing with Tom; his breath warm on her neck as he whispered, “Follow your own star, my darling.”
“Lucy, thank goodness, I’ve been so worried,” Penelope called from the open door as Lucy stepped out of the car. “Oh, you found it. What about the thieves?”
“No sign of them,” Lucy said with a sigh.
“Oh, so how did you find the star? Never mind telling me now. Come in, and I’ll phone Mr. Juggins. It’l 22ndl really make his Christmas. You put the kettle on, and you can tell me all about it over a cuppa. ”
Lucy followed her mother inside, her mind still puzzling over why the thieves had left the star. As she went through to the kitchen, she heard Penelope on the phone.
“But Mr Juggins I reported the robbery—I witnessed with my daughter. A loud bang… Oh, a car backfiring. And the star? Yes, the one, from your window. Oh…I see. Sorry to bother you. Yes, Happy Christmas to you too.”
Penelope wandered back into the kitchen with a frown.
“Everything okay, Mother,” Lucy asked as she dropped a couple of teabags into a brown teapot and added hot water.
“How strange, Mr Juggins said there wasn’t a robbery. No theft of the star. No gunfire, just a car back firing. I don’t know what to believe now. We both saw it.” Penelope took two cups and saucers from the cupboard and set them down on the table.
“Never mind, we know what we saw. I have the star.”
“Yes, you do.” Penelope added milk to a cup and passed it to her daughter.”
After taking a sip of her tea, Lucy asked, “Do you know anything about the Star Inn up on the old High Road?”
“Now let me see. Star Inn, oh yes. It was once a popular coaching inn in your great-grandmother’s day. When they straightened the road, which isolated the Inn, but by then it didn’t really matter. One Christmas Eve, just as the clock struck the hour, a spark from a fire ignited the paper decorations on the Christmas tree. Several young couples, who were staying at the inn, lost their lives that Christmas. Legend says every Christmas Eve, their ghosts return for one last dance.
Lucy looked down at the star in her hand. It felt warm as it glowed slightly. Whatever the world chose to believe, she knew the truth: love is so much stronger when we all follow our own star. Tom had found a way to come back to set her free.
About the author
ula R. C. Readman is a prolific writer who has penned six books and over a hundred short stories. She lives with her husband, Russell, in a Garden Village in Essex. Just Google Paula R C Readman, and something’s bound to pop up. Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee?. Half of what you pay goes to the author the oher half goes to expense se.g. Maintaining hthe web site and setting up The Best of Café Lit book each year.
